Caught In A Shitstorm part 8 - SpainXfem!Romano

You know, it's funny… so fucking funny how shit works.

I'm. A. Fucking. NATION.

Or half of one.

You know what? Screw specifics. You know what I mean.

I never would've thought that I would be dabbling in the art of TEENAGE DRAMA. I mean, seriously. I feel sorry for all of those lovely inhabitants of Sicily and Rome… those members of the mafioso… those Southern Italians that hold themselves with a sense of intense pride and nationalism.

Well, wake up call, fuckers. Your personification is a spazz who's acting like a slut just to nab the man that she is so desperate to have.

I never knew that I would stoop so low as to agree to go out with Gilbert fucking Beilschmidt, no matter how fake our little relationship will be. This is a new kind of sad. This is obsessive to the point of…gah! Shit-sickles! I don't understand myself anymore. Si, I know that I am in love with Antonio. That is a painful, stomach-punching fact. But… he's dating my sister. My own sorella. Am I that sick of a person that I would want to ruin that?

Pfft.

Of course I am.

Why did I even ask myself that?

To make myself sound more elaborate of course.

Haha.

HA.

Anyways, aside from my continuous ranting, the rest of the night was rather… explosive. I will tell you that much. I never thought that I could get into a legitimate fight with Antonio. Si, we've had our moments… but they were mostly one-sided. I was the one throwing the curses and the punches while he just stood there smiling as he patted the top of my head, telling me how cute I was.

But this. No. He was actually reciprocating the anger for once.

In any other circumstance, I would be amazed by this.

But with how he had decided to talk down to me….

FUCK HIM.

Si. That's right.

Fuck him to hell and back.

It was dusk by the time I had re-entered Toni's house. It was one of those warm nights that signified the approaching presence of summer. The crickets chirped, the stars twinkled, and the light breeze intertwined with the humid heat, creating the perfect conditions for a moonlit stroll. In all honesty, I just wanted to sleep outside. Fuck the house; I sure as hell didn't want to go inside… not with an angry Spaniard waiting to give me an earful.

But, I am Lovina Vargas. I am NOT going to be sleeping outside like a fucking dog, no matter how nice it is outside, or how much Toni is PMSing. No, I was going to face the fire, look him dead in the eye, and tell him that I am a grown woman who happened to be dating Gilbert Beilschmidt. Then, like a badass, I'll walk up the stairs, swaying my hips like a sexy motherfucker, smoke a cigarette, and go to bed.

Legit, si?

Well, there was a problem with that plan. I had underestimated two very important factors: my ability to keep my emotions in check, and Antonio's anger.

Goddamn, that anger.

It's a chain really. When Antonio's angry at me, he talks down at me with such ferocity that I can't help but gape at him like an idiot. Then, once the words register in my mind, I become furious, and scream until my damn lungs bleed.

…And that is why I am glad that this house is conveniently located in the countryside.

Alright. Enough of my rambling. Even if my rambling is informative and fucking fantastic. This is how it went.

I clenched my teeth as I opened the door to the house, thankful that I had brought a spare key with me. My head was still spinning as I thought of my little conversation with the Prussian douchebag in his basement. In all honesty, all I wanted to do was take a shower. I can only handle being in a Germanic household for so long.

However, before I could so much as take another step toward the stairs, I heard my name being called.

"Lovina?"

The voice definitely belonged to the tomato bastard, there was no mistaking that. But it was lacking its warmth. It was cold, low, and dangerous. Not only that, but Antonio NEVER calls me 'Lovina'! It's either 'Lovi' or 'Mi poco tomate' or something along those lines. Funny thing is, I bitch him out for calling me 'Lovi' or any affectionate variation, constantly berating him to call me 'Lovina.' But now, hearing him say my name in that tone, I couldn't help but cringe and wish that he would just go back to comparing me to a cute, ripe tomato. Ha…haha, good ol' days.

I blinked, my throat going dry. The voice was coming from the living room, which was only a few feet to the left from where I was standing.

I was debating here…

Go into the living room and face the storm?

…or go upstairs and hide like a bitch?

My eyes flitted back and forth between the stairs and the living room. All the while, I felt absolutely pathetic. So much for being that sexy, badass bitch who would face Toni full on. I amuse myself sometimes.

"Lovina, come here, please."

Stairs…

Living room…

Stairs…

Living room…

"Lovina?"

Stairs…

Living room…

Stairs…

Living room…

"I know you're there. Stop stalling. I need to speak with you."

Stairs…

Living room…

Stairs.

Stairs…

"Fine. I'm walking over to you right now."

Stairs.

STAIRS.

STAIRS.

STAI—

Even though I found myself a quarter of the way up the stairs, I felt a hand grip my wrist, pulling me back. I froze, my teeth clenched together as I slowly turned my head to catch sight of Antonio's livid face, his green eyes boring into mine and his lips tight.

And I hated it.

I hated how he looked more like a disappointed father than anything.

Because newsflash…he is NOT my FUCKING father.

Not everyone can play Darth Vader in this world.

"Not so fast. I understand that you must be tired, but I would like to have a word with you before you go to bed," he said in an abnormally formal voice… a voice of DOOM… and…and DEATH.

I stared at him harshly for a good moment before finally relenting. However, I did curl my lip and rip my wrist from his grip before shoving past him and pausing at the foot of the stairs, spinning around to face him, my arms crossed. I must give myself credit for playing the 'intimidation' card, despite the fact that I was quivering on the inside.

None of my limbs were shaking, I wasn't whimpering or crying, I didn't show any signs of fear… Nope! I looked like a hardcore bitch made out of metal.

Good. That's how it's supposed to be.

"Well. Shoot," I snapped curtly.

Antonio's eyes narrowed ever so slightly at my tone, but he didn't make any comment of it. Instead, he just stared at me for another moment in complete silence.

I made sure not to blink.

The one who blinks is the loser.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he opened his mouth and spoke. The words that spilled out of his mouth immediately set off a trigger in me. Holy shit, did he have the power to just /piss/ me off. Hell, I thought that my sorella pissed me off just by being herself. I thought that the Beilschmidt bastards pissed me off just because they probably masturbated with potatoes while watching some blonde, pony-tailed chick whip some guy's ass while shitting in a cup. I thought that Alfred pissed me off because everything that came out of his mouth was straight up /bull/ shit.

But no. No, no, no, no.

Antonio Fernandez Carriedo pissed me off.

"I don't want you seeing Gilbert, Lovina. Understand me?"

The way he said it… with such harsh authority, as if his word were final.

HA. HAHAHAHAH. AS IF. AS FUCKING IF.

I rose an eyebrow dangerously at that.

"Excuse me?" I asked in a low voice.

He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "You heard me. I know you did. I… okay, let me rephrase that. I'd prefer that you didn't see Gilbert, alright?"

His little 'rephrasing' didn't save him. No, not at all.

I just…stared. And stared and stared and stared, until…

"Fuck you."

The words slipped from my mouth with such ease, it felt like caramel dribbling down my chin. Now, it shouldn't be a surprise really. We all know that the words 'fuck you' are extremely common words in my extensive, articulate vocabulary. However, for some Godforsaken reason, they seemed to molest Toni's poor Catholic ears at this very moment.

Aw, poor ears.

I'll pray for you.

NOT.

"Lovina Vargas…" he warned, his eyes growing dark.

"Fuck you, Antonio. Fuck you up the ass. Fuck you in the mouth. Fuck you with a spiky, HIV-infested strap-on. Just… fuck you."

With each word, my voice grew and grew. I don't know where this unadulterated anger was coming from. I mean, Toni was just being a bit protective right? Sure, he had no right to tell me what to do, but he was a man of memories and nostalgia. He sometimes forgot that I wasn't that little brat who peed on the floor and bit his ankles at random intervals. He'd get over it, eventually.

But no, that's not what bothered me. What bothered me is that I love him. I love him so fucking much, and yet, here he is, dating my younger sister while treating me like a child, thinking that he has the right to tell me what to do.

I hate it. I absolutely hate it.

Why can't he just open his eyes and see me as his equal. If he can do that for Feliciana, why can't he do that for me?

I've proven myself, haven't I?

I love him.

I love him, I love him, I love him, I love him.

"Lovina Vargas. I will not tolerate being spoken to like that under my own roof, you hear me? I understand that…" he attempted. But no matter how forceful he sounded, his attempts were fruitless. Because that's when I just went off.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP. JUST…JUST SHUT UP. I AM AN ADULT, AND YOU HAVE ABSOLUTELY NO RIGHT TO FUCKING TALK TO ME LIKE THIS," I shrieked, my face burning and my head spinning. He just doesn't get it. And he never will unless I tell him.

Which will not happen anytime soon.

For once, Antonio didn't wilt. He didn't lower his voice or come forward to try and comfort me during my fits of rage. No, instead, his swirling eyes got darker as he screamed back, his voice as loud as mine.

"NO RIGHT? YOU ARE UNDER MY ROOF! I UNDERSTAND THAT YOU ARE A FUCKING ADULT, BUT YOU ARE IN MY HOUSE, EATING MY FOOD, SLEEPING IN ONE OF THE ROOMS THAT I HAVE SET UP SPECIFICALLY FOR YOU. I DESERVE SOME RESPECT HERE."

Oh. Oho. Good one.

Now, it's my turn.

Stamping my foot, I flailed my arms slightly in response, my lip curling dangerously as my nostrils flared. I know. Attractive, right? Right.

"I. DON'T. CARE! THIS… THIS ISN'T ABOUT THAT! I AM SICK AND TIRED OF YOU TREATING ME LIKE A FUCKING KID, ANTONIO. GET IT THROUGH YOUR FUCKING HEAD THAT YOU AREN'T IN CONTROL OF ME ANYMORE. I… I'M DATING GILBERT NOW, ALRIGHT? GET USED TO IT!"

The Spaniard took a few steps forward, his hand gripping the railing of the stair case, his knuckles white. Jesus Christ, he was SEETHING. Seething like some rabid animal. I have never seen him look this angry. Again, I reiterate. I've heard stories, but seeing it in action? I didn't know that he was actually capable.

And watching his anger fueled my rage.

"YOU DON'T WANT TO BE TREATED LIKE A CHILD, LOVINA? THEN STOP ACTING LIKE ONE! WHY CAN'T YOU BE MORE LIKE YOUR SISTER, HUH? AT LEAST SHE DOESN'T WHINE AND MOAN AND COMPLAIN LIKE YOU DO, YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE BRAT!"

I saw it. I saw the look of immediate regret pass over his face as soon as the words left his mouth. However, I could also see that he was determined to stand his ground. As was I. I wasn't going to let his little tirade break me, no matter how much of a punch those words packed.

I lowered my voice, but I could still feel the fiery venom race through my veins as I stared at this damn man that I loved so much.

"I'm not going to ask you why you didn't take Feliciana in as a child while you still had the chance. I already know that you regret raising me. This is all beside the point, Antonio," I growled, trying oh so hard to keep my voice from trembling. My eyes were already burning from the tears that wanted to spill down my cheeks. But I wouldn't let them fall. No fucking way would I let them fall. Not now at least.

I plowed forward, my fists clenched, my fingernails digging into my palms. "What were we originally arguing about? Oh, si, I remember now. How you are trying to control my love-life like some pathetic piece of shit living in the past."

Antonio wasted no time to lash back, the color draining from his face as he stared at me with a ridiculously icy expression. "I am NOT trying to control you, Lovina. I apologize for my earlier wording; I understand that I cannot tell you what to do anymore. But by all FUCKING means, forgive me for not liking the idea of my friend shoving his dick up your ass."

….

…

Wow. WOW.

How rich.

He doesn't like the idea of Gil- WOW.

HA.

AHAHAHAHAHA.

I couldn't help myself. I laughed. I laughed oh-so hard. Hell, I bet you anything that not even the powers of God and Satan combined couldn't beat the mighty glory of my laughter.

Choking slightly, I attempted to catch my breath before sending the Spaniard a cold glare, mixed with a nasty smirk. "You don't like the idea of me fucking your friend? Who says that I like the idea of my precious little sister bending on her knees so that she can lick your over-sized churro?"

To accentuate my point, I let my eyes roll back before making slurping noises, thoroughly enjoying myself at this very moment. This was so damn satisfying. Oh, sweet, sweet logic mixed with revenge. I was even tempted to push it further by doing my infamous imitation of my sister moaning due to arousal, but I decided against it.

…So you're wondering how I know what I my sister sounds like when moaning?

Well…you see… we were bored one night, conveniently wearing nothing but frilly lingerie, and we both discovered that we had a kink for incestual, lesbian sh- HA! JUST KIDDING. I got you there, didn't I?

…Okay, fine, fine. I had to undergo listening to my sister moan all night a few years ago when she and I got a bit tipsy at some New Year's party. Even though she tended to be the more "virtuous" of the sisters, she was definitely in NO way, a good little Catholic schoolgirl. Long story short, she brought back a guy, and I had no choice but to share a room with her and her little "buddy."

Let me just say that Feliciana has a very distinctive moan.

I wonder if Antonio thinks so too.

Obviously, a certain Spaniard was NOT amused. Once I opened my eyes to get a good look at him, his face was mutated in disgust. If I didn't know any better, I would've thought that he was ready to curb-stomp me right on the spot before taking a shit on my dead body.

"I asked you for permission," he said in a soft, chilling voice… hell, at this point, he could give Belarus a run for her money.

"I don't remember giving it," I replied in an equally chilling voice. Okay, so technically, I did give him permission, but… it SO doesn't count. Come on! Can this idiot really be that oblivious? A cup through the window and a tirade of curse words should give him a clue on how I felt on their little 'relationship.'

Then, before I could comprehend another thought, Antonio and I were nose to nose. I almost… ALMOST recoiled with a shriek, but I managed to hold my ground with a slight blink of an eye. However, that didn't stop the fact that my heart was pounding violently against my chest and that chills were travelling up and down my spine at a rather dangerous rate.

Fuck.

Fuck.

FUCK.

What do I do.

My brain can't process…

Me. No. Shit. Anger. Bastard. Sex. BEEEEEEEEPPPPPPP.

"I don't imagine things very often, Lovina," he said in a tender voice… though that tender voice was dangerously poisonous. "I would never date your younger sister without your permission. Unlike you, I actually have respect for my peers."

Oh, respect for my peers? I'll show you resp—GAH!

Sh—wha?

His hand…

He had grabbed a handful of my hair from the back of my head, tugging backwards slightly. I could feel his fingers clenching, the slight pressure against my scalp causing my breath to hitch dangerously.

What. The. FUCK. Was. He. Doing?

His forehead was pressed against mine, as were my rigid limbs and torso, my breasts smashed up against his body. He could probably feel my rapid heartbeat intertwine with his ragged breaths.

And his eyes… those green eyes. They were on FIRE. Yes, they were still filled with laced venom, but there was a fire there… a fire that I hadn't seen before. A fire that seemed to burn through my face.

"You know what, Lovina?" He said, still in that dangerously tender voice. "I am sick and tired of your bullshit. I don't even care anymore. Go on and fuck your little boyfriend all you want. In fact, if I were you, I would go live with him, because I am kicking you out. You have one hour to grab your crap and haul your ass out of here. I've done all that I could for you. I've raised you, I've fed you, I've given you the love that any human being deserves… and for what? This disgusting behavior? No. I want absolutely nothing to do with you and your ludicrous attitude."

With that, he released me gently, taking a few steps back, his eyes never leaving me.

"One hour, Lovina. One hour."

And, that, my friends, is how my beauteous, Shakespearean-worthy night went.

Ha.

I'll let you vote on who won that argument.